It's for an experiment!
by mascaratrix
Summary: Sherlock and John making food for each other. Sherlock experimenting on John. Friendship. - If you'd like, please write your opinion. That's my first public fanfic, so I could use guidance and remarks.


AN: Johnlock drabble. Not "real" Johnlock, contains only friendship. For now. But later... :D Maybe I write sequels, where they get closer. No warnings, just fluff.

It was a long and busy day. Running and hiding and plot twists in the case of a double murder. Now it was 8 o'clock in the evening and John was sitting by the table, blogging about their day, how they deduced who was the murderer and what was the motive.  
Only the table light is on, and the only noise is the clicking of the keys under John's fingers. Sherlock was lying on the couch gazing at the dark ceiling. Sometimes he jumped and rushed to the kitchen, and then to the window, and sometimes he just asked John about some "random" information.  
When John finished the post, he shut down the computer and sighed. He rubbed his eyes and looked at inanimate Sherlock on the couch. He wanted to say so many things. He wanted to thank him when the detective saved him from a bullet, or when he nearly tripped into an elevator shaft. He just didn't know how to say thanks or what to say at all. Then he had an idea. Sherlock doesn't really eat, but when he does, he eats only something filled with vitamins or proteins. And he drinks a lot of water, because water is the nervous system's fuel. The previous three days were too busy for them and Sherlock couldn't really eat anything ("_eat or think_"). So John went to the kitchen and made some fresh salad of tomatoes, eggs, cheese and yoghurt and took a glass of clear mineral water with some smashed berries in it on the tray and put them into the fridge next to some lung parts. He smiled and went to sleep. John was very tired, he just fell asleep immediately.

The next morning when John woke up, he found steak with chips and bean on his bedside cabinet, accompanied by a mug of hot tea. He sat up and consumed his breakfast with a wide smile and with happiness. He put on his trousers and shirt, but couldn't find his sweater. He just grabbed another one and went downstairs. Sherlock was watching news shows on the TV, but he changed channel every 5 seconds. "Boring, boring, also boring..." He was wearing his blue sleeping robe, but his mental state and bags under his eyes told John he did not sleep at all. He was sitting (sometimes jumping) on the floor in front of the TV, and when he jumped, John saw something black and white. It was stripy.  
- What are you doing with my sweater? - John asked Sherlock.  
- I was making breakfast for you. Did you like it?  
- Yes, I... I liked it, thank you. But what with my sweater? - he furrowed his brows.  
Sherlock rolled his eyes and just explained without moving his eyes from the telly.  
- Your sweater smelled fast-food and it is not healthy. So I made you something you might like and is considered food.  
John opened his eyes wide and grinned as he imagined Sherlock sniffing his sweater trying to deduce what to cook for him.  
- But we were together at the fast-food restaurant, you shouldn't have "taken samples" from my clothes. Couldn't you just like remember?  
- I had to think about other things. - the detective answered as he finally turned towards the doctor.  
After a pause John just said: - Do you want to give my sweater back?  
Sherlock looked at the stripy cloth and shook his head. - Not really. I need it.  
- But that is my...  
- I need it. - and he turned back to the telly changing channels to find some mysteries to solve.  
- Anyway, thanks for the steak, it was delicious.

The same evening Sherlock was at St. Bart to examine a body. John wanted to make something again for his flatmate while he's not at home, so he went to the kitchen to look around what they have. There was cake in the fridge, and a message on it: "John". He ate almost the whole cake, it was sooo delicious, he wasn't able to stop eating. Then he got a text: "Come to the hospital. SH" John took a cab to go there, but he couldn't really sit, his stomach was so full.  
When he stepped into the mortuary, Molly gave him a sympathetic look before she went out. The same moment Sherlock sprayed something into his face that stinged his eyes so bad. His whole face ached, like it was flaming. Then the feeling stopped and he started to feel himslef better. Way much better. Too much better. His knees decided not to work and he collapsed. Sherlock was right there to catch him and to lay him down on the floor. His limbs were numb, his body was prickling. The cake-spray combo worked really "funny". John passed out.

John woke up in his own room. It was dark, still night. His senses and movements were slow. He turned his head to the right, a tall dark shadow, Sherlock was sitting next to him. John was angry and wanted to shout at him, but Sherlock was faster. He reached towards him with the sweater inside his grip. John glimpsed at the cloth and then looked at the taller man questioningly. Sherlock clenched his lips and finally talked.  
- It was for an experiment. Lestrade called me for a case and I needed to know how the victim was drugged.  
- And why did you need my sweater?  
Sherlock looked at him like he didn't understand what his friend didn't understand about the sweater.  
- You like it, so you'd be happy if you got it back. Therefore I give it back to you now.  
John just took the cloth from Sherlock's hand and shook his head lying back to the bed. He closed his eyes and heard the other exit the room. There was no reason to argue with Sherlock, he thinks in a totally different way than a normal person. If he tried to explain him why was he angry and giving back his stuff can't just make thinks like this forgiven; and people are not just action-reaction combos, but complex beings and have emotions, Sherlock wouldn't understand these at all. So John just left it, and let his friend think the problem is solved. Well, at least John didn't make it a problem, because he knew exactly how Sherlock worked.  
As Sherlock closed the door he felt relieved, because John accepted his apology and wasn't angry. "That was easy. John is too simply predictable. This is how he works."

The morning when John finally woke up Sherlock was waiting for him in the kitchen with some toast and eggs. He was smiling and added:  
- There is no poison in that, you can eat it.  
The two men just had their breakfast silently and joyful.


End file.
